Early in the morning, Gaza City was enveloped in a busy atmosphere.
Saracen slave girls, carrying freshly picked flowers from the garden, briskly moved through the estate.
They lit incense, swept, and cleaned the long-uninhabited rooms.
Because starting today, Marquis of Transjordan, King Baldwin's favorite confidant, Guardian of the Holy Spear, Protector of the Divine Wood, favored by God, Commander-in-Chief of the Crusaders, Losa will be staying here.
Robert, the Vicar Lord of Gaza City, looked at his son, reeking of alcohol, who was just pulled from bed by the old housekeeper, with a flushed face—perhaps I should consider fetching your brother from the monastery and send you in.
The old baron roared angrily, "Get yourself clean immediately, and change into decent clothes! You stink as if you've been living in the stables for a month, you fool!"
The young noble seemed not fully awake, instinctively belching, "Do we... have guests?"
